


The Forty-ninth Sentinel Tidbits File by Many and Varied

by 852_Prospect_Archivist



Series: The Senad Sentinel Tidbits Files by Many and Varied [49]
Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Holiday: xmas, M/M, Senslash Fun
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-10
Updated: 2013-05-10
Packaged: 2017-12-11 03:56:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,851
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/793717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/852_Prospect_Archivist/pseuds/852_Prospect_Archivist





	The Forty-ninth Sentinel Tidbits File by Many and Varied

## The Forty-ninth Sentinel Tidbits File

by Many and Varied

Author's disclaimer: The characters aren't mine, these tidbits aren't mine. Honestly, I'm not responsible for any of it! 

Rating: the whole range  
Pairings: J/B (mostly!) 

* * *

Tidbit #1 

ObSenad: The Season 

Apples. Douglas fir, and apples. Beeswax, honey, hot oil also made their presences known. But overwhelming all the other smells, the sweet cold fresh smells of Washington apples. 

Jim almost floated up the stairs, drawn by the odors that beckoned him from behind his apartment door. Pleasantly full of baked goods, eggnog, and cinnamon-laced coffee from the laden break-room at the station, he now looked forward to a quiet evening with Sandburg. 

Jim opened the door, and an apple smacked him between the eyes. 

"Oh, man, I'm so sorry!" 

He could hear Blair running over from the kitchen, feel the air flurries as he moved, smell the starchiness and sting of grated raw potatoes and onions on his hands. By the time Jim had groped his way past the doorway, still rubbing his stinging forehead, he was able to open his eyes once more. 

Apples. Apples in a wooden bowl on the coffee table, all colors and shapes and sizes. Apples dangling from threads over the kitchen island, along the staircase, at Blair's office doorway. Several shiny red apples hanging from the small tree in the corner; small yellow apples piled under the menorah on the table like oversized gelt. One large Red Delicious specimen swaying drunkenly from the mistletoe at the apartment's entrance, the culprit that had assaulted Det Ellison. A Washington Gold at the feet of a large plastic lawn raven on the bookcase. Apples and pastry baking together in the oven, juices bubbling. A red crystal apple candle-holder on the dining table, flanked by containers of applesauce and sour cream. 

"You okay, Jim?" 

"I'm victim of a drive-by fruiting," Ellison whimpered. 

"You're okay," Blair said, and returned to an evil-looking gray mush in a bowl by the wok. "Go clean up for dinner." 

The appetizing smell of sizzling potato pancakes greeted Jim when he returned from the bathroom, and he took a good long look at the eclectic apartment. "Chief, someone came by the apartment and appled us. Were they out of T.P.?" 

"Guess." 

Oh, God, another 'Guess which holiday' game. The menorah and latkes were no-brainers, unlike the tree and mistletoe (Solstice, Jim, not Christmas). Blair had explained the Tlingit story of Raven bringing the sun to the world to account for the ugly black bird with the gold ball at its feet. "Kwanzaa?" 

"Nope. Well, I guess the bowl of apples qualifies as 'first fruits,' and we certainly celebrate 'umoja' every night. That's 'unity,' the first principle." Blair grinned. 

"Umoja. Shall I tell Simon that one?" 

"Go right ahead. Then we can start practicing 'cooperative economics' when we have to hit up friends for loans while you're on unemployment." 

"Oy gevalt." 

"Speaking of which..." Blair turned off the wok and brought the dishes over to the festooned table. "I figure this and the pie will be enough \-- I've been snacking all day too." 

"On apples? Was there a sale?" 

"Ess, ess, mein kind," Blair said, indicating Jim's plate. "Don't talk, eat, they'll get cold." 

The piping hot latkes with applesauce and sour cream were just the thing to fill the last corner inside Jim, banishing the cold rain outside. He felt peaceful and content and loved and in love. On December 24, yet. How long had he gone through the motions and felt nothing, or tumbled inside with anxiety and stress? 

"It's weird, spending winter solstice in a temperate zone," Blair said, almost as if reading Jim's thoughts. "I'm a lot more used to green Christmases in places where December is hot and sweaty." 

"I'm sure we can arrange for something hot and sweaty tonight," Jim said. He plucked a red apple from the table and leered at Blair as he held it out as an offering. "Wanna bite?" 

"I think you ought to know the seven dwarfs will be back any minute," Blair responded. 

"Damn," Jim said, and took a bite. "Can't blame a witch for trying." 

"Hey, I've got pie cooking." 

"On top of the latkes? Right now I'm craving fruits and vegetables. I'll bring it to work tomorrow. Should be quiet, just me and the other bachelors sharing our goodies." 

Blair had a look of pure lust on his face. "The campus library is _all mine_ tomorrow." He covetously fingered the keys in his pocket. "All those stacks of untouched books waiting for me to unlock their secrets..." 

"Speaking of secrets, Einstein," Jim hefted his half-eaten apple before his lover, "What's with the produce? Festival of Red Round Things from the tiny island republic of Togo?" 

Blair smiled and picked up a Rome Beauty. "Not Einstein." He held the apple over the table and let it go. The round little red apple hit the tabletop with a thud. 

Jim frowned. "Isaac Newton?" 

"Bingbingbingbingbingbing! You win the bonus round!" Blair picked up the abused fruit and took a bite of his own. "It's Sir Isaac Newton's birthday tomorrow," he said with his mouth full. 

"December the twenty-fifth?" 

"Correct." 

Jim rolled his eyes. "How could I forget? Washington's Birthday, Lincoln's Birthday, Isaac Newton's Birthday." 

"He _only_ changed the way human beings looked at the universe. That's something all of us scientist types try to do, and we do it piecemeal. He did the whole shebang, the first guy to do it since Aristotle. He was only upstaged this century by Albert." 

"A man, a lord, a god, a king, I agree, Chief. But is he holiday material?" 

Blair held up his red-crystal apple candle-holder; inside, a small vanilla votive-candle flickered. "Light, Jim. This time of year, this celebration, is about _light._

"The longest night of the year is the night you keep the fire going all night, or else the sun will forget to return. You huddle in your cave with your family and friends, eating reindeer marrow and honeycomb to keep you warm in the bitter cold, and you sing and tell stories to stay awake until the sun comes back. The first solstice celebration. 

"The Crone of Winter is marching through the land, and in defiance of her icy touch lights adorn a phallic tree and people kiss beneath the golden bough -- mistletoe. 

"Your temple has been destroyed by an enemy trying to outlaw your God. You return after the battle, and there's only enough oil for one night of lamplight. But the light burns for the required eight nights of purification anyway. Hanukkah, the Festival of Lights. 

"A new star appears in the sky to lead sages to the place where a peasant child has been born. 'The people that walked in darkness have seen a great light.' 

"Raven the Trickster sets the sun in the sky to remind the northern people that, though the night is long and bitter, light will return. 

"And an apple falling from a tree leads a man to bring enlightenment to a world shaking off the dregs of a dark age. 

"Q.E.D." Blair set the candle down and took another bite of apple. 

The timer rang; Blair got up to deal with the pie while Jim cleared the table and set the dishes in the sink. 

"How about some music?" 

"Go nuts, Chief." 

Jim tried to guess what it would be. Tribal chants, drums, Enya, klezmer, Wiccan goddess mantras-- 

It was the last thing he expected. 

Blair came back to help Jim with the dishes while Nat King Cole purred about roasting chestnuts and Jack Frost. 

the end -- 

Jane M. 

Mele Kalikimaka (Hawaiian)  


* * *

Tidbit #2 

ObSenad: 

"Hey, love. What are you doing?" Jim asked as he came in to the loft, landing a kiss on Blair's cheek. 

"Oh, hi Jim!" The young man said cheerfully. "You know how when we wanna chat with our friends and the other fans of "Watchman" on IRC and stuff, and we have to start calculating the time difference and everything and it's a big mess?" 

"Yeah..." Jim said quizzically. 

"Well, there's this thing now called "swatch internet time", which is the same time for all time zones. You can download it from their site, and put a little watch on your computer. That way, if you wanna schedule a chat or something, you don't need to do the math!" He smiled. 

"Sounds nice!" Jim said. 

"Yeah, the only problem is getting all the other people to get it as well, because it's no help if we're the only people that use it." 

"Good point. So..emm... why don't you send an e-mail to the list telling people about it, and where to download it." 

"Good thinking, Jim. I knew I loved you for a reason." Blair's smile was dazzling as he pulled Jim closer for a kiss. 

"Guess that e-mail's gonna have to wait..." Jim said breathlessly when they finally parted. 

* * *

You can download that clock at <http://www.swatch.com> It's a very small file, takes seconds to download. 

Daphna  


* * *

Tidbit #3 

ObSenad: 

Jim stood outside the door to the loft. In his hand was the largest sprig of mistletoe he'd ever seen.  <Ellison,> he thought sickly, < this was _the_ dumbest idea you've ever had. And that's up against some pretty _serious_ competition! > He lifted the key to the lock for the third time, before dropping his arm back to his side. 

<For God's sake, man. You have faced men with guns, knives, bombs...how scary can one drop dead gorgeous anthropologist with lethal lips be?> Jim felt a shiver race through him at the thought, <Get a grip. Just go in, smile, joke, lift the branch over those beautiful curls...and kiss him.> Jim closed his eyes for a moment, took a deep breath and slipped the key in the lock. <Why didn't I just get a little piece of the damn stuff that I could have put in my pocket? Oh no...'Gimme the big piece,' I said. 'Who's the lucky lady,' the guy leered. Boy, _he_ was lucky I was in a good mood or he'd have been spitting holly for a month! > he thought with a growl. <Just open the goddamned door, Ellison.>

"Hey, Chief," Jim called as he entered the loft. 

Blair sat at the table, glasses perched on the end of his nose, his head buried in something fascinating on his laptop. "Hey, Jim," he said not looking up. 

Jim took only a few steps before panic set in and he swung the mistletoe behind his back, frantically trying to tuck it in his pants and pull his snagged shirt over it. As he attempted to edge past his partner, to hide the evidence somewhere, he tripped. "Shit!" he hissed angrily. 

"Jim? You okay, man?" Blair said still not looking up. 

"Yeah, why shouldn't I be?" the older man said nervously. 

"Oh, I just asked 'cause you appear to have a mistletoe bush growing out of your ass," Blair said in his deep, calm, 'guide' voice. 

"Uh..." Jim grunted, his face flushing ferociously. 

"Were you planning to use it or are you just growing it on for next year?" Blair glanced up over his glasses to see his partner's mortified expression. 

"Er.." Jim's mouth moved, but no words spilled forth. 

Blair sat back in his seat, removed his glasses and folded his arms across his chest. He scrutinised his partner like a scientist watching bugs writhe and wriggle under a microscope. Suddenly, he pushed back the chair and climbed to his feet. He walked up to his now hyperventilating Sentinel, reaching around his waist and pulling out the branch. "Mmm. Impressive specimen, such a shame to waste it," he grinned, mischief dancing in his eyes. 

Jim smiled and tentatively reached out his hand, sliding it around Blair's waist, "Merry Christmas," he whispered as he met Blair's lips for the first time. His guide tasted just as he'd always imagined, so sweet, so...Blair. He could feel his soul drifting away as the overwhelming essence of his partner threatened to engulf his senses. Pulling back breathlessly, he stroked a stray curl from Blair's face, "Best Christmas present I've ever received," he smiled. 

"No way is this enough for _my_ Christmas gift, man," Blair grinned, "You can deliver the rest upstairs.." 

"What?" Jim's eyes widened. 

"Well, you're not the only one who's been doing your Christmas preparations," Blair growled, "Upstairs, Ellison...now!" 

Jim took the stairs two at a time, coming to a skidding halt at the top. Taking one look at what lay on the bed his face widened in disbelief, "Sandburg. You have _got_ to be kidding!" he gasped..... 

Finis 

Happy Holiday! 

Michelle  


* * *

Tidbit #4 

ObSenad: 

"Jim?" Blair perched on the arm of the couch next to the big detective. 

Jim looked up from his reading. "Yeah, Chief?" _Oh, man, I am in trouble. Sandburg's got his glasses on. Wonder what's going through that head of his now?_

"Jim, what color is Santa Claus?" 

"WHAT? 'What _color_ is Santa?' Sandburg, what the hell are you talking about?" 

"Well, a few of us at the University got to talking today. One of my fellow TA's wanted to take her daughter to see Santa at the mall, but she didn't feel right taking her to see a _white_ Santa. She didn't know why Santa couldn't be African-American. Or Asian, or Hispanic, or Oriental. She said she buys her daughter African-American dolls to play with so she could be proud of her heritage. So why couldn't there be a Black Santa? I really couldn't give her a reason." Blair answered. 

Jim sat there, the paper forgotten. He had a very thoughtful look on his face. "You know, Blair, I never thought about it before. I don't see why people can't have Santa in their own image. But you're right. All I've ever seen is a white Santa. I guess because I've seen it so much, I've become accustomed to it." Jim shrugged. "I never even thought that he'd be anything other than white when I was growing up.. But I guess things change, people change. I remember how surprised I was when I first saw a picture of a black Jesus. But the more I thought about it, the less confusing it became to me. It says in the Bible that God created man in his own image. So why wouldn't Man create a picture of God in his own image? No one is to say whether Jesus was white or black or even purple. Jesus has a different picture in everyone's mind. Don't know why Santa couldn't be the same." 

Blair gaped at his roommate. "Oh, man, Jim! I am like _so_ amazed here! I guess I never expected something like this to come out of _your_ mouth, much less all at once! You _never_ talked about stuff like this before! Hell, you hardly ever _talk_ at all! I expected to get _maybe_ 3 words out of you!" Sandburg stared at Jim unbelievingly. 

Jim smiled gently at his amazed friend. "Well, Chief. You never asked me before, did you?" And with that, he picked up his paper and started reading, more to hide the smile that crept across his face. _Gotta keep you on your toes somehow, Sandburg!_

-end- 

Jo  


* * *

Tidbit #5 

ObSenad--caution, do not read if you're easily offended by comments about some religions 

"Jesus, Jim." 

"What?" 

"Jesus." 

"What's wrong, Chief?" 

"Nothing. I'm just thinking about Jesus." 

"Oh. All right. Any particular reason for this particular round of thinking?" 

"It's Christmas and sometimes it just gets damn difficult to put up with all the images plastered everywhere." 

"You're talking about the images of Jesus, right?" 

"Yeah, man, like you see him with blond hair and light skin, a skinny nose, and it kind of bothers me some." 

"Why's that?" 

"Jesus Christ was a Jew, Jim." 

"So?" 

"He should look more Jewish." 

"You mean maybe make him have dark curly hair, a warm complexion with dark blue eyes?." 

"That sounds like me." 

"Does it?" 

"Jim?" 

"What?" 

"Why are you looking at me like that?" 

"Just practicing my religion, Chief." 

The end, with no offense intended 

Grey 

* * *

Tidbit #6 

ObSenad: 

"Oh, man!! Jim, change the station quick!! I can't _stand_ this song!!" Blair's voice floated down from their bedroom where he was changing clothes. 

Jim listened to the music for a moment, focusing on the words as he walked over to the radio and turned the dial to WSNT. He didn't have an opinion on the song himself and was curious what about had his Guide so upset. 

"I thought you would have approved of that song. You know, a bunch of people coming together to sing for a good cause, raising money for the hungry of the world... I know it's old and overplayed but so are most of the Christmas songs they've been playing." Jim commented as Blair came downstairs, still pulling a red and black flannel over a white henley. 

"It's just so damned arrogant!! Have you really listened to the words?" Blair sang a few lines, mostly on key, as he commented on them. " _Do they know it's Christmas time at all....?_ Well, firstly, most of the people in those countries aren't Christian, so they don't celebrate Christmas and couldn't care less what we do on December 25\. _There'll be no snow in Africa this Christmas_. Well, of course there won't be... It's Africa!!! It's in the Southern Hemisphere!!" 

Jim listened to Blair rant as he walked around the room, waving his arms to emphasize his points. The younger man went on about how some people felt justified in pushing their belief systems and values on native peoples just because they were poor and needed food. 

When Blair sounded like he was winding down, he was immediately wrapped in a warm embrace and warm breath fanned across he left ear. 

"So, any objections to this one?" Jim asked quietly. 

Blair listened intently as he heard the strains of "All I Want for Christmas is You" playing softly in the background. He smiled and kissed Jim. 

"No, man. None at all!" 

-the end- 

Angie  


* * *

Tidbit #7 

ObSenad: 

Jim moved across the room to peer into the box Blair had just hauled up from the storage area in the basement. 

"What'cha got there, Chief? A Black Santa Claus?" The cop sounded puzzled. 

Uncharacteristically, Blair bristled. "Yeah, he's Black. Why? Does that bother you? Does it upset you to have a fictional character who is usually representative of the ruling culture in this country shown as a minority?" 

Jim backed off a step, hands held out defensively in front of him. "No. It doesn't bother me in the least. Simon has several of them he puts out at the holidays to go with his angels." 

"Oh." Blair blushed, eyes dropping in contrition. "I'm sorry for snapping at you. I just get a bit touchy when something that is supposed to represent the spirit of giving and joy is linked exclusively to one race." Frowning, the young man glanced up. "Then why did you sound like that? Like you'd never seen one before?" 

"It wasn't the color. I was surprised that _you_ had a Santa collection. I mean, you _are_ Jewish." 

With a grin, Blair set out the rest of his small statues. "Yeah, but Santa isn't a part of the religious celebration per se, and beside, he's an important cultural mythos of the prevailing Christian-Judo majority in this country. How could an anthropologist pass up something so fascinating?" 

Jim gathered his pliant lover into a snug embrace. "So, it's just part of the job, huh? Professional interest? Not like you personally believe that he's going to leave a little something under the tree for you?" 

Blair stretched upwards to steal a kiss. "He can't leave me anything, big guy. I already have everything I've ever wanted right in my arms." 

-fini- 

Deb  


* * *

Tidbit #8 

ObSenad: 

"Hey, Jim, there's a great discussion on that Watchman list we like." 

"Oh yeah? What's the topic now? How the two guys do the dirty? Or will they ever really get to kiss on the show? Or even hug?" 

"Uh.....no, not exactly." 

"Well, what then? Which one is the better looking? If so, I gotta vote for shorty....he's gorgeous." 

"Uh, Jim....wait. You really like the short one?" 

"Oh yeah...but what is the discussion?" 

"Oh. Um, what color is Santa Claus?" 

"Can't say I ever thought about it, you?" 

"Me? I always thought he was red and green. And by the way? I _love_ the tall anal one." 

\--end-- 

Allison  


* * *

Tidbit #9 

Re: By popular demand, the conclusion to tidbit #3... 

ObSenad Plus..... 

<< Jim took the stairs two at a time, coming to a skidding halt at the top. Taking one look at what lay on the bed his face widened in disbelief, "Sandburg. You have _got_ to be kidding!" he gasped.  >>

* * *

"Nope, c'mon man, chill out!" Blair grinned moving in close behind his partner and stripping the shirt from his back like a professional, "Play the game." 

"What game were you thinking of, Chief?" Jim asked open-mouthed as his pants hit the floor with a clink of the buckle. 

"Christmas games, Jim," Blair panted. 

The older man fingered the object on the bed warily, "It's got bells on!" he said incredulously. 

"Oh yeah...jingle all the way, oh what fun it is to ride!" Blair sniggered. 

"It...It'll never fit!" Jim said shaking his head. 

It'll fit," Blair growled as he pushed the boxers to the floor, "Oh man yeah!" he licked his lips appreciatively. 

"I don't think I've ever seen this side of you, Sandburg," Jim gasped. 

"Side, top, back.. you're gonna get to see 'em all tonight," Blair succumbed to a giggle at the shocked expression on his partners face, "So, come on, Jim. Buckle up. This could be a bumpy ride." 

"But?" 

"Take off your shoes and socks, man. No, on second thoughts...leave the socks... they are kinda sexy!" Blair's eyes twinkled with glee. 

"But, how do I get into this thing?" Jim asked, "And why do I get the complicated one?" 

Blair picked up the harness and shook the leather to untangle it, "'Cause you make the best reindeer, Jim. And I _like_ the Santa hat," he smiled as he began buckling Jim up. 

"So, where does _this_ go?" Jim asked nervously. 

"Use your imagination," Blair grinned as he kissed his Sentinel passionately, "Now just the antlers and the nose, and we're in business!" 

"Shit, I knew that mistletoe was a mistake," Jim sighed as he hit the bed with a thud, quickly followed by one hundred and fifty pounds of muscular anthropologist in nothing but a Santa hat. 

* * *

"Blair?" Jim groaned. 

"Yeah, man?" Blair sighed contentedly. 

"Should I get scared around Halloween next year?" 

"Oh, yeah!" 

* * *

Definitely finis!! 

Y'see, I said you should have all used your imagination! 

Merry Christmas and may all your Santas look like this one  <g>

Michelle  


* * *

End Sentinel Tidbits File #49.

 


End file.
